Without You
by alinaandalion
Summary: The tears dry without you.  Life goes on, but I'm gone because I die without you.
1. Sophie

**I decided to re-write this. I felt like I had stopped myself short. **

* * *

"Everyone out. We're blown." Nate's voice sounded over their earpieces as he ran down a flight of stairs.

"Where to?" Eliot asked. He grunted with pain as he took a hit. He punched his attacker across the jaw.

"Lobby. Hardison have the van waiting outside," Nate replied.

Nate jumped the last few steps and rushed into the lobby. He could see Sophie emerging on the other side, and he started towards her. A gunshot rang out, and she stopped, bending over. Nate turned his head to see one of the men who had been chasing him holding a gun that was pointed straight at Sophie. He looked back at her; she had fallen to her knees, her hands clutching her abdomen.

"Sophie!" He ran as fast as he could to her side.

Parker was a few feet away, her face pale. Eliot appeared behind the shooter and wrapped his arm around the man's neck. Nate could have sworn he had heard the shooter's neck snap as Eliot dispatched him and hurried in Sophie's direction.

Sophie gasped with pain. "Nate…oh, God, it hurts."

Nate lifted one of her hands to examine the wound, paling at the sight of the amount of bleeding. He covered it with his right hand. "I know, Soph. Hang in there. We'll get you out of here."

"What's happening in there?" Hardison asked.

"Sophie's been shot," Eliot said. He knelt down beside Nate. "How bad is it?"

"I don't know if it's hit any organs," Nate said quietly. "Hardison, are you almost out front?"

"Five seconds man."

"Good. Parker, you're driving us to the nearest hospital." Nate reached out with his free hand to stroke Sophie's hair out of her face. "Sophie, how are you doing?"

"I've been shot, Nate," she replied, arching an eyebrow. She grimaced. "Fuck. He really got a good hit."

"Nate, there are going to be more guys coming in just a minute," Eliot muttered. "We have to get out of here."

"Okay." Nate shifted so he could meet Sophie's eyes. "Soph, we're going to move you to the van. Stay with us."

"This is going to be hell," she said through gritted teeth.

"We're ready for you, Nate," Hardison said over the earpiece.

Nate nodded to Eliot, and Eliot picked Sophie up, cradling her head against his shoulder. Nate stayed right beside him so he could keep his hands over the wound. Sophie's cheeks were losing color, and he could see her eyes fluttering closed.

"Damn it, Sophie, stay awake," Nate demanded as he and Eliot ran from the building and to the van.

Parker was waiting with the back open. Nate got in first and backed up until there was room to lay Sophie on the floor. Parker had slid into the driver's seat with Hardison beside her, pulling up a map to find a hospital. Eliot stripped off his shirt and handed it to Nate before moving out of the way.

Nate pressed the shirt against Sophie's middle and patted her cheek. "Come on, Soph. Stay with me."

She moaned, but she opened her eyes. "It hurts."

He nodded his head. "I know. I know. Just hold on a little longer."

She reached up to grasp his hand, her fingers covered with her own blood. Eliot was still hunched over her body, holding his shirt to her abdomen. She could see black spots, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Sophie, no, don't do this!"

Nate's voice cut through the fog surrounding her. Each lungful of air was becoming harder to draw in. She licked her lips and forced her eyes back open, locking onto Nate's frightened face.

"How much longer?" she whispered.

Hardison turned around in the front seat to face the group in the back. "Three minutes. We're almost there."

Parker tightened her grip on the steering wheel and increased her speed until they were almost flying down the road. She had remembered to turn on the emergency blinkers, and other vehicles were swerving out of her way. Sophie suddenly felt very cold. She tried to tighten her grip on Nate's hand, but her fingers refused to respond. Eliot was shouting something at Parker, but she couldn't understand it. All she could focus on was Nate in front of her; he leaned over and brushed a kiss to her forehead.

"Be strong, Sophie," he murmured. He pulled her up into his arms and jumped out of the van.

She assumed they were in the emergency room. It would make sense. It was odd. The pain was leaving now. Nate laid her down on a stretcher and people swirled around her, a bustle of activity. She wanted to fight against them. She had something to tell Nate and the others. Something important that she was going to forget. But, the heaviness in her head kept her from moving. She caught one last look at Nate before she was wheeled away. He looked so lost and alone. She tried to smile at him. Then, she closed her eyes.


	2. Eliot

Later, when he thought about that day, Eliot didn't remember many details. There were some things that stood out with painful clarity. The blood blossoming from Sophie, the crack of the shooter's neck, Nate's breakdown in the hospital when the doctor came to tell them that she was gone. He didn't remember feeling anything when he heard that announcement. He had been focused on Nate who had collapsed to the ground and was just lying there. He didn't like to think about how he had looked into Nate's eyes and seen only a hollow shell of a man.

He had forced himself to keep it together; feelings were a luxury for those without responsibility. He made arrangements for the funeral, contacted Tara and Maggie and any others in Sophie's list of contacts on her phone, and he kept Nate from drinking himself to death. He had intended to take care of Parker, but the girl had run off only to reappear for the funeral.

Maybe the reason he didn't remember things was because he didn't want to. He was supposed to protect the team, take the hits so they would be safe. He had failed that day, and Sophie had paid the price. He could have moved faster, anticipated things going wrong. He replayed the events over and over in his head. It didn't help assuage his guilt, but that wasn't what he wanted.

The day after the funeral, a lawyer had showed up at Nate's apartment. They had all been surprised when the man had produced a will and five separate DVDs labeled in her beautiful cursive with their names. He had held his in his hands, tracing the delicate lines (_Eliot Spencer. _He could almost hear her voice again.) The lawyer had read the will to them, but he didn't listen. He was focused completely on the little disc he held in his hands. He could guess at what was on it, and as much as he didn't want to, he would watch it later.

That night, when he was alone in his apartment, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey and settled onto the couch with the disc. It had taken a few mouthfuls of the stinging liquid before he put into the entertainment center Hardison had insisted on setting up for him (he had protested but was grateful for the unlimited sports access). The screen went black, then her face appeared with a smile so warm and bright that he wanted to shut it off (because she wouldn't ever smile at him like that again; it wasn't fair). Instead, he had listened.

"Eliot, well, I suppose if you're watching this, that means I'm not there anymore." She had the decency to look a little upset at the idea but found that smile again. "I've known for a long time that this is a dangerous job, and I didn't want to take the chance that I wouldn't be able to say goodbye."

All he could think about was sitting in the back of that van with his shirt pressed to her abdomen in a desperate attempt to keep her blood inside her body even as it poured out, and how much he had wanted to say then. His tongue had forgotten how to work then.

"I think I'm a little sorry that things have turned out like this." She laughed a little and he winced. "But, you know how awful I am with apologies."

He was reminded of a time when he had never wanted to see her again because she had double-crossed them (he had killed men for lesser offenses). He regretted that now because that was now lost time that he would never get back.

"I need to ask a favor of you. It isn't fair, Eliot, but you're our protector, and since I'm no longer there, you need to take care of the team." She had turned serious; he took a mouthful of whiskey and held it in his mouth, savoring the burn before swallowing. "Don't let Nate fall apart like he did after Sam. Keep Parker and Hardison safe. They'll need you more than ever."

He considered shutting the television off and walking away. He could do it; he had worked on his own far longer than he had been part of a team. He didn't move (couldn't move).

A small smile flitted across her face. "You've been my best friend, you know. You're a good man, Eliot, even if you can't always see that. Don't ever forget it."

Her dark eyes were so wide, and he could see the small amount of liquid gathered in them. He was struck by how magnificently beautiful she was, so strong and loving (and broken beyond repair). The screen went black and he let out a howl of… he couldn't identify the emotion. It was a ball of hurt and hate and anger and fear that choked his throat. He wouldn't remember later when he had flung the bottle of whiskey against the wall. But, for the first time, he let the tears gather and fall. He would get up in the morning and start all over. He would pour Nate's alcohol down the drain, cook, try to coax some words out of Parker, attempt to argue with Hardison. Not now, though. It was just him, an empty apartment, and a broken bottle of whiskey.


	3. Hardison

Hardison considered running away. Then, he would look at the door and realize it was an insurmountable journey. It was enough work just going to Nate's apartment. He had helped Eliot clear out Sophie's apartment a week ago. Most everything ended up in a couple of Nate's closets; Hardison had collected a lot for Parker, small trinkets he thought she would like. Parker had run her fingers over them then disappeared. He had left them in a box on the counter that would probably still be sitting there when he showed up that morning.

It was almost impossible to connect with Parker. It was as though her link to the world had been severed with Sophie's…. He couldn't say it. He tried to act like nothing had changed. He still played World of Warcraft (but only at Nate's apartment because Parker would sit there and watch), and he took a few available opportunities to tease Eliot. It wasn't the same. He felt lost.

(_"We trust you to make sure we'll all okay."_)

He wanted to yell at Sophie for disappearing on them. Who was supposed to take care of all of them now? Who was going to keep Nate from drinking himself into an early grave? Who was going to pull Parker back out of that shell? Who was going to remind Eliot that he was just more than muscle? He couldn't answer those questions anymore. He was having enough trouble just getting out of bed.

His eyes fell on the DVD he had received like the others after the funeral. He had hated her a little for making these for them. He would never be able to forget.

_She had looked too small on his computer screen, contained. "Hardison. You should be proud. I made all these recordings myself since you showed me how."_

_ He suddenly wished that he had never spent that time with her, laughing and teasing her about her incompetence. It might hurt less now._

_ "I've always admired you. You're so smart and you've done so much even though you're young. I've always been jealous that you've never let the ugliness of the world keep you from smiling." She was grinning at him, and he was smiling back before he could stop himself. Tears slipped unnoticed down his cheeks._

_ "Don't ever forget that joy, Hardison. It will be hard, I know, but they'll need you since I won't be there to make sure you're all okay. And, Parker…. Don't push her too hard. She cares about you. Maybe she even loves you. Just give her time. Stay patient. You're a wonderful man, Hardison. It has truly been an honor knowing you."_

_ When the screen went blank, he had chunked the laptop across the room. _

He grasped the doorknob. He could run away. Maybe Parker would come with him. Maybe it would be good for her. His fingers trembled, and he tightened his grip, swallowed back the tears burning at his eyes. Not today. Today, he would try to get her to say something to him. All he could do was keep trying.


	4. Tara

Tara wandered around the empty house. It was Ireland this month. One thing Sophie had left behind had been keys to all of her safehouses. She sipped at her vodka and savored the burn. Vodka had always been her preferred drink; she remembered finding out about Sophie's fondness for bourbon. She had been more than a little surprised. Sophie had always oozed class mixed with sex, and Tara had felt, on more than one occasion, like a common prostitute next to the gorgeous brunette.

Three months had passed since Eliot had called her with the news. She hadn't believed him at first, thinking it was another fake death (Sophie had always had a fondness for dying that Tara would never understand). But, it was real, and Tara had shown up for the funeral. She had stood on the fringe of the team with Maggie (yeah, it was Maggie, Nate's ex-wife) because neither of them really belonged but they were still pulled into orbit by Sophie's extreme magnetic pull. Tara had found that she was actually grateful Maggie had been there because she hadn't felt so alone that day. Maggie had offered her a hand to hold and afterwards, when Maggie was busy with Nate, Eliot had pulled Tara aside and told her to come to Nate's apartment when they were done at the cemetery. (She could still see that box being lowered into the ground and thinking it was all some sick joke; Sophie just couldn't die.)

She tipped the rest of the vodka into her mouth and switched on the television. She had gotten a DVD along with her set of keys. She watched it on occasion (it hurt so much to see Sophie's face, but it hurt more to feel the memories slip away).

Sophie's face filled the screen, and Tara fumbled for the bottle of vodka. She was going to need to drink more to get through this.

"Tara." Sophie paused after that statement, a smirk on her face. "We've been through a lot together. If it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't be here right now."

Tara ignored the irony of that statement because it was not the time to point out fallacies in Sophie's logic. Besides, she was alone. No reason to scream at a television that would keep playing that damn message no matter what.

"But, that's stupid since if you've got this, that means I'm not alive anymore. I didn't used to think about dying. We thought we were invincible, conning Russians and taking what we wanted and fucking when we wanted." The crass word still sounded odd coming out of her lips. "One too many guns get pointed in your face, though, and you start to realize how easily life ends."

Eliot had told her it was a gunshot that had taken down Sophie. One little bullet that hit in the wrong place took her life away too early. She knew that Sophie had always wanted a dramatic death complete with heartfelt goodbyes and tears. She hated that this was Sophie's way of cheating life.

Sophie laughed, the sound so happy that Tara slammed back some vodka just to deal with it. "I always regretted that we parted ways. It was for the best, I know that. And, I don't wish things had turned out differently. I just wish sometimes that you could be part of the life I have now. You're my best friend."

And occasional lover. Tara added those words in her head because that was something she and Sophie just never talked about (it wasn't that they were embarrassed; it was just a thing they had accepted as part of their friendship).

"I always cared about you, and I think even a small part of me was in love with you." Sophie's smile was wistful, and Tara knew she was thinking about Nate then and chases that had spanned across Europe. "You've always been special, and you've always been there for me when I need you. I want you to consider going back to Nate and the team."

This was where Tara usually lost her shit and started making plans to move onto a new place. The second after she had watched the DVD, she had hopped on a plane and hit a bar when she landed. Because she had almost stayed because that's what Sophie wanted. Tara was barely keeping herself together. She couldn't handle being the team's crutch. She had tried to fill Sophie's hole once, and that had been hard enough. This time it wouldn't be temporary.

"It's a good life, Tara, and I know you liked it." Sophie's smile had melted away, and she suddenly looked so sad. "They don't handle loss well. They'll need you. Please think about it."

That was it. The screen went black, and Tara turned the television off. There were no technical goodbyes or tears or confessions of love. That wasn't how Sophie and Tara communicated. They always let conversations trail off because they knew they would always finish them. Not this time. Tara looked around the bare room and fished her phone out of her pocket. She scrolled through the contacts until she found Eliot's number. She hit the little green button and listened to the ringing on the other side of the connection. Before he could pick up, though, she cut the call off.

She shoved the phone back into her pocket and tipped the bottle up to her lips. She could call them tomorrow.


	5. Parker

** a friend- **I think I agree. The re-write is better. I'm thinking of including more from the original one-shot in Nate's chapter, since most of that was from his point of view anyway.

**stvko**- Yeah, I wasn't going to change the fact that Sophie dies. But, I felt like the rest of the team (and Tara) deserved their own chapters to explore how they would deal with Sophie's death.

* * *

_One, two, three, four. _Inhale. _Five, six, seven, eight._ Exhale. Keep the breathing steady, feet beating down the pavement. She can't stop running. It helps the ache inside. She thinks of her rigs with gleaming harnesses and zip lines and air flying through her hair, in her face. She can't fly on them anymore. Flying isn't for people who are empty inside. People like her. Flying is effortless; it doesn't take sacrifice and pain and lungfuls of air tearing through a raw throat. Running is like self-flagellation. An attempt to atone (never close enough; she's never coming back). Don't think about it. Don't think about the blood, the screaming, the hole in the ground, eyes closed that will never open again.

She wonders if it's dark where Sophie is. Dark like a grave dug before it's time. Or if there's light and happiness to make up for the fact that Sophie is no longer alive, and it's the ones who weren't fast enough, who couldn't save her that have to live in the dark. She supposes that's fair.

Nate has his drinking. Eliot has his job of keeping them all together. Hardison has his world on the Internet. She used to have flying and tall buildings and freedom. All she has now is busy streets and cold pavement and that ball of hurt that never goes away. (She still looks for Sophie, then remembers. Remembers that this isn't a con. That her life is falling apart at the seams and no one is there to put it all back together.) What happens when the bird is caged? It doesn't die; it just lives. Lives in a metal cage and watches the world go past. Never free again.

Stabs of pain course through her legs. She keeps going. She should probably go back. Hardison will be looking for her (he's always looking for her now, trying to talk to her; she doesn't know how to tell him that she doesn't care anymore. How is it fair that she's still talking and breathing and living when Sophie is suffocating under the ground all alone? He doesn't understand). She stops and stretches her legs out to relieve the aching in her limbs. She'll turn around in a minute. She moves through more stretches. Lifts her arms up (Sophie's smiling at something she said). Extends her leg out until the muscles in her calf pull and tighten (a gunshot. So much blood). Shakes her head and closes her eyes (dirt colliding with wood).

She thinks about the DVD sitting in its paper sleeve beside her bed. She wants to hide it, but she needs to see it to remember (remember that Sophie is gone; that Sophie cared enough to make sure she got to say goodbye). She has only watched it once. The words are burned into her mind.

_Parker watches the small television screen, Bunny cuddled close to her chest as Sophie's face fills her vision. _

_ "Well, I suppose it's real this time." Sophie has a small smile on her face, like she and Parker are the only ones included in some conspiracy. "I actually am dead. And, you're all still alive. I hope that's true anyway."_

_ Parker decides that she doesn't like this. She reaches to turn it off but stops. This is all she has left now._

_ "I struggled for awhile to figure out what I can say to you. I still don't really know what to say. I'm sorry that I'm not there anymore." The smile is gone, but the light is still in her eyes. "I know you've watched a lot of people walk away from you. This isn't one of those times. I would give the world if I could be with you forever. _

_ "I want you to take care of yourself." The tears slide down Parker's cheeks; she wipes them away, but they won't stop. "Don't shut everyone out. You need each other. It won't always hurt, Parker, I promise. And, don't forget about Hardison. He cares so much for you._

_ "I've never told you this, but I feel like you need to hear it. I love you, Parker. You've been like a sister for me."_

_ Sophie flashes one last smile at the camera before the screen goes blank. Parker breaks her television. That is the first day she goes running._

She looks up. She has somehow managed to get back to Nate's apartment. This isn't the first time she's started running and forgotten about what she was doing. Maybe she needs to find something else to do because she doesn't like remembering. That's what the running is supposed to stop.

Hardison waits on the couch with a towel and a bottle of water. He has his game pulled up on the screens, but he isn't playing.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" she asks after gulping down some water.

He shrugs. "Didn't feel like it. How was your run?"

She doesn't answer. She looks at him instead and realizes for the first time how tired he looks. (_"He cares so much for you."_) She thinks about the running and trying to forget and how maybe he's been trying to do the same thing. She wants to fix him because even though she can't make her own hurt stop, maybe she can take away some of his pain.

"Do you want to jump off a building with me tomorrow?"

Her voice is quiet, and she doesn't look at him when she forces those words out. She hopes this will help.

His hand finds hers and wraps their fingers together. "Yes."

She nods her head once and settles a little closer to him on the couch. She gestures at the screens and watches as he starts his game up.


	6. Nate

It was dark when he woke up. It was always dark outside when he managed to drag himself out of bed. It didn't matter because he wasn't going that far. Just down the stairs to get a fresh bottle and back up again. He opened the cabinet. It was empty.

He found the glass bottles in the sink. He was aware he should be angry, but he didn't really care. He had been waiting for Eliot to get around to throwing it all out. He would get more later. He looked over at the couch; Parker was curled up there. It had become a regular sight, and he knew she was waiting for him to kick her out. He thought about it at first then dismissed the idea. Apathy had taken root in his bones, and he had no intention of letting it go. It was so much better than the crippling despair hovering on the edges of his mind, just waiting to swoop back in.

With the alcohol now gone, he reconsidered how he was going to spend his evening. He could go back up to bed (the nightmares would come back. Blood, whispered apologies to a cold body, Sophie perfectly preserved.) He decided against that. His mind drifted to the disc he had received after the funeral. He watched it daily (going on four months, and he had yet to break the routine). He had a vague feeling that re-opening barely healed wounds wasn't a good idea, but he did it anyway. He had always possessed a self-destructive streak. (Sophie always claimed it was a mile long; he knew that, in the end, it had ended up destroying her as much as him. Hell was too good for him.)

He hated that DVD. It only reminded him again and again that he didn't get a chance to tell her goodbye. He had been so sure that she would be all right (because Sophie was indestructible; it had somehow become as much a fact of his life as the fact the sky was blue and he needed to keep breathing if he wanted to stay alive) that he didn't voice those words, certain that he would hand her a death sentence. Well, he had ended up giving that to her anyway. And, here he was left with so many things he had needed to tell her (he loved her; he needed her more than anything; he would do anything for her… The words went on and on. Meaningless). He shook his head. He really needed a drink.

He trudged back up the stairs to his room. Flipped open the laptop he kept stored there and just hit the play button. He didn't use it for anything except to watch her. Her face filled the screen, and he reached out with a trembling hand to brush his fingers against her cheek (it always disappointed him that it was only a pixilated image, never real).

"I don't know how to start this. I've known you for a long time, Nate, almost longer than anyone else. And, we still can't figure out what to say to each other." She was trying to smile, but wasn't very successful. He had a feeling she was imagining the pain he was experiencing now and wanted to fix it (too bad she couldn't; even if she was here, he wouldn't let her. He had always been a bastard like that).

"I know you probably blame yourself, and I don't know how everything played out, but I know it's not your fault. You've never put us into danger on purpose, and I trust you. You care too much for your own good. I know you've started drinking again. Stop it. The others need you to keep yourself together. Drowning your pain won't make it go away." She started crying a little. "Damn it. It's just…we've never managed to get on the same page.

"I know we both want something more, but we don't know how to get there. And, now it's too late. I'm sorry, Nate. Sorry I couldn't be more, couldn't be enough for you, and all I've managed to do is break you even more. You should know that I love you. I have for years, almost as long as I've known you.

"Please try to find some kind of happiness. You can't lose everyone, Nate. You need them as much as they need you. Don't destroy yourself over me. Please…try. Do that for me."

The screen faded to black, and he stared at it. He should have known this would happen. He had never managed to hold onto anyone he loved. Maggie, Sam, and now Sophie. They were all gone. He didn't want to try anymore because all he ever managed to do was to hurt the ones he cared about. The other three would be better off without him. He closed the laptop and laid back on his bed.

It was an odd place between waking and sleeping. The world blurred and he was halfway onto another plane where things were easier. He could almost imagine Sophie in his arms, her perfume tickling at his nose, her lips just barely against his mouth. It faded, though. He remembered the bar downstairs then. He pushed her pleas out of his mind and staggered his way towards salvation. There would be no making a heaven of this hell. And, the reason he wasn't trying harder to honor her last wishes was because trying to keep living would mean forgetting. He never planned to do that. He had lost enough.


End file.
